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Thursday, September 15, 2016

Happy Bettysday!

As I type, Bettysday commemorations are happening all over the globe with various of our Betties minding young children, curling up with a favorite book, partaking of tea or a lavish dessert tray.

My own celebrations are smaller this year. I folded a mountain of laundry and turned out several cupboards (the Mijnheer thought my backside was splendid as he saw me working, I am sure) and will take some flowers and chocolate to a friend who is celebrating her own birthday.

As I worked, I was watching the program Very British Problems and I leave it to our British Betties to tell me if it's accurate at all. A man was being interviewed and I had a full-on Dawning Realization. Well, not a full-on one. That's reserved for Mijnheer van Voorhees. But it was adjacent. It was Betty-idealization At First Sight.

On the topic of shaking hands, the people in my country are famous for it, too – and I am not fond of this custom.

After the karate incident with a glass coffee pot...When I was in my teens, I had tried to catch something falling out of the cupboard—the coffee pot stood in the way... Of course, this happened on a Sunday, so we had to go to the doctor who was on call for emergencies. He put a special adhesive bandage that had several open slits on the cut, and wrapped a white bandage around my hand.

After the karate incident with a glass coffee pot...My uncle and (boy) cousin came for a surprise visit, in the afternoon. They never came to visit us. I mean NEVAH. But just that afternoon, they suddenly showed up. My hand was evidently, obviously, visibly wrapped in a clean white bandage. You could not overlook the blindingly white gauze wrapped around my hand. It was impossible not to see that my hand was injured, seeing that it was bandaged. This did not stop my uncle from shaking my hand. Of course, I thought, erroneously, as it turned out, that he would be gentle. But no, he squeezed my poor hand with brutal force. I was speechless. (I wasn’t into name calling, back then, and am too polite, now.)

When my nephew was in his twenties, we met him and his girlfriend at family gatherings. Family gatherings – rounds of handshakes! (Ugh. I hate it, hate it, hate it! Why be so formal with your relatives?)

His girlfriend would grab your hand and then, after a little pause, squeeze hard. Weeeeird! And what’s more, painful! After the second or third meeting, I told her not to do that.Turns out, she had been criticized for her weak handshake...

Ouch! That sounds excruciating! I like to shake hands a little more often than I am allowed to do it anymore. There are hardly any cases for the formality and probably people hope not to catch any colds. We're all fist-bumps and hugs.

Ouch! That sounds excruciating! I like to shake hands a little more often than I am allowed to do it anymore. There are hardly any cases for the formality and probably people hope not to catch any colds. We're all fist-bumps and hugs.

Does it make me ridiculous to be so excited to have found your blog? My mom and sis make fun of my betty neels obsession, although ny husband tolerantly lets me spend a fortune on ebooks to have them all. So fun to find a crew of fellow fans!